Nonpartisan
by Maid Of Many Names
Summary: Hermione Granger left Hogwarts and joined an ancient healing order that remains neutral even in times of war. As Medicus, she is called upon to put her impartiality into practice. Can she live up to her ideals?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Nonpartisan

Author: Maid Of Many Names

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing appearing in JK Rowling's "Harry Potter" books belong to me. I gain no monetary profit from this work of fanfiction.

Summary: Hermione Granger left Hogwarts and joined an ancient healing order that remains neutral even in times of war. As Medicus, she is called upon to put her impartiality into practice. Can she live up to her ideals?

Part 1

Hermione Granger sat in perfect calm, as she perused the letter. Heavy parchment of the finest quality was smooth as silk under her fingertips. The large and ornate crest stamped in green wax, smelt faintly of oakmoss. The ribbon that had secured the letter was of the finest satin. Such fine materials were not unexpected. One simply did not write to the Medicus Order on substandard stationary. What was unexpected, was the signature signed with a flourish at the bottom of the letter.

For several moments, Hermione considered the signature. She didn't concern herself with the rest of the letter. What the letter contained was no different than the twenty or more she'd received from other senders. It was the signature that demanded her attention. Uncertain, Hermione tore her eyes from the letter and up to meet the gaze of the woman before her. Red hair with strands of gray framed a face that was all at once welcoming, determined and peaceful. The startling violet eyes, that peered from that visage, were clear and astute. Those eyes served Melinda Baneworthy, Head Healer of the Medicus Order, very well. Hermione knew her reservations were noted.

"As you can see it is a permanent contract. A life-bond," Melinda said, breaking the silence between herself and Hermione.

"I thought you said that I wasn't ready for a contract longer than a year," Hermione replied.

"You aren't."

"Then why have you show me this letter?" Hermione questioned, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Our order has prided itself on remaining apart form politics and other conflicts. This letter has negated that possibility, but I won't say that I did not expect it," the older witch spoke.

"What will we do?" Hermione managed to ask.

"We grant the request. The Order is impartial, and heals all those that request our aid and have need."

The very pinnacle of healing, the Medicus Order operated under unbreakable oaths as old as time. Its members were inviolate and nonpartisan in peace and in war. The healers of the Order were the most knowledgeable and the most sought after in the world. The grounds of the Order were open to any who needed healing. Any who requested aid were treated. None were refused. That was the Order's greatest tenant. Hermione had given ten years to the order. She had been a full Medicus for three of those years. The tenants were part of her flesh, bone and blood. Even so, she felt uneasy.

"And why have I been summoned? There are far more experienced-"

"I agree. There are more experienced Medicus than you Hermione, but none are as qualified," Melinda interrupted. "Your particular talents and areas of research make you ideal for the position. The lack of experience must be overlooked."

Medicus were oath bound to serve any in need, except under very specific circumstances. Contracts, that magically bound a Medicus and a patient, were such a circumstance. For the duration of the contract, the Medicus tended near exclusively to the patient specified in the contract. Short term contracts of no more than five years were common. A good sixty percent of the order were under contract at any one time. When under such a contract, the Medicus formed a special bond with their patient. At the end of the contract, the bond was broken. Hermione had taken on two short contracts, one for six months and the other for a year. 

Permanent contracts were another matter. They were as rare as they were expensive. Such a contract effectively removed the Medicus from other work, as they life-bound until death. Permanent contracts were the only request for aid that the Medicus Order could refuse. In addition, the Order discouraged such contracts through heavy financial penalties, and extensive requirements and conditions that had to be met. A request for a permanent contract hadn't been made for nearly a hundred and fifty years. Had this contract been made in any other time, it would probably have been refused. Sadly, that was not so.

Hermione sighed and looked back down at the letter. No Medicus was forced into a contract. She could refuse it, if she desired. No one would condemn her if she did. A Medicus performed many functions. Like mediwitches and wizards, they healed. The healing of a Medicus, however, encompassed all spheres. Mind, body, spirit and soul were healed. A Medicus could become friend, companion and lover to a patient. A permanent contract bound deeper than wizard debts or blood bindings. This was why any contract was met by rigorous examination, before approved and offered to a Medicus. Was she ready?

"Hermione, it would be a great challenge. Certainly, it's not an... easy contract. You are within your rights to refuse, but I would not have suggested you if I didn't think you capable," Melinda encouraged.

After five years of apprenticeship with Melinda, the bonds of friendship between them were strong. Hermione could read the sincerity in the older witch's face, but it quickly was replaced with an expression of sadness or perhaps regret. After graduating Hogwarts, Hermione had applied to the Order. Becoming a Medicus required a great deal of study and work. That hadn't daunted Hermione. She loved what she did and she had learned much under Melinda. More importantly, she believed in what the Order was, down to her bone. Hermione was beginning to realize that she was now required to put her convictions into practice. She had never backed down from a challenge and she wouldn't now. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the letter.

"Tell Lord Voldemort that I accept his contract."


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

The battered trunk Hermione packed her things into had been a constant companion since Hogwarts. Loyally it had safeguarded her belongings and endured the punishment of the years. Due to the spells and enhancements Hermione had added to it, it would stow away far more than it appeared to hold. Even with the enchantments, packing was an impossible task. The well loved collection of books she couldn't bare to part with, were the first to be packed. Then went the sentimental treasures of her young life. Finally, Hermione had tried to pack her wardrobe. Not being a vain witch, she had only ten robes, including her formal Medicus robes. To her frustration, no more than four would fit unless she resorted to more magic. Hermione was tempted to leave the others out. Would she really need dress robes in a Dark Wizard's lair? Sighing, she remembered Melinda's advice. It was always better to be prepared than caught unawares.

Finally, Hermione removed everything from the chest and set about to argument the chest's spells. This was a tricky process as already there were many spells layered on the chest. It was also a type of magic she hadn't done in some time. As Hermione worked, she was reminded of how Ron had turned his trunk inside out with the same miscast spell. With a controlled flick of her wand, the spell was done. Taking a deep breath of triumph, Hermione began the packing process again. It was repetitive, but it kept her mind from dwelling on her departure. This time the robes fit, barely. The trunk locked, Hermione turned her attention to the four other trunks that were sitting on the floor.

The other four trunks were emblazoned with the Medicus seal. In the trunks were the many tools of her trade. Medicines, potions, bandages and amulets were the least of their contents. They were all things that she would use in her duties. Looking at the trunks, Hermione felt a shiver of fear. Did she really know what she was doing? The urge to run and tell Melinda to call it all off, rose like a tidal wave. It wasn't too late... Even she felt it, Hermione shook her head. She was a full Medicus, not a frightened child.

Hermione regained her composure and straightened her clothing. The blue and silver robes were the formal dress of a Medicus. They were worn on duty or when sealing a contract. The simple dignity that the robes afforded her, was much needed. As ready as she ever would be, Hermione reached out her hand to the door. Before she touched the doorknob, the door swung open. To her surprise, Harry Potter came barreling in and knocked her hard onto the floor.

"Hermione! Oh, I'm sorry! You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, no I'm not hurt. Just startled," Hermione replied and took the proffered hand. "What are you doing here, Harry?"

"How could you ask that? I heard just this morning!" Harry replied.

"How?! It's not-"

"It's in the papers, Hermione. Everyone knows."

"Everyone?" Hermione asked. "Then I'm surprised Ron isn't here too."

"He's somewhere in the wilds of Russia but if he knew then he'd be here with me trying to knock some sense into you," Harry spoke.

"Is this what it's about?" Hermione replied tersely.

"What else? It's Voldemort, Hermione! I don't know what they said to make you do this-"

"It was my decision! They- Melinda, didn't say anything," Hermione said angrily.

"I know that isn't true. You'd never accept it otherwise," Harry replied in a gentle but somewhat patronizing tone.

"Harry, I know my own mind and I made my decision. I know it's Voldemort but I am a Medicus. When I joined the Order, I knew I had to put aside personal feelings."

"This is not about personal feelings, Hermione. Voldemort has killed thousands of people. The Ministry know his health is failing but with a Medicus..."

"Politics was one of the reasons I joined the Order. It's a dirty business that I want nothing to do with! You're asking me to let a man die when I could do something about it," Hermione argued.

"And what you're going to do will allow him to kill even more people."

Damn it, Hermione thought. She hated it when Harry was like this. Voldemort would kill more people but he'd do it with or without her help. There was more than one way for him to regain his health. Those other ways required blood sacrifice and the Darkest magic. Taking a permanent contract with Voldemort would stop that kind of atrocity at least. As a person, Hermione would not stand idly by. As a Medicus and as someone who believed in the values the Order upheld, she would remain neutral. That was something Harry, as an Unspeakable, couldn't understand. The Medicus Order had healed Death Eater and Auror alike. They would make no distinction between sides, birth, race or nature. As an Unspeakable, Harry was fighting a war. The idea of her refusing to take a side was incomprehensible.

"You know what I am, Harry. As a Medicus, I take no sides," Hermione spoke calmly.

"But it's Voldemort, Hermione," Harry repeated with distress. "I know what a permanent contract means. How could you even-"

"You believe that crap?! Why don't you just call me a whore to my face," Hermione snapped.

"I'm not calling you a-a whore, but..."

Hermione winced. Her own doubts were making her prickly. As respected as the Medicus Order was, it didn't stop gossip mongering. The nature of Medicus healing was the butt of many a joke and slander. They had often been called nothing more than high priced harlots. Those insults sickened Hermione. The work the Medicus did was invaluable but the impartiality of the Order was not without its high prices. Both Ron and Harry had been horrified when she applied. Even now the memory grated on Hermione's nerves. To have Harry throw *that* into her face was the last straw. What was left of her Medicus composure went out the window at sonic speed.

"That is exactly what you're insinuating! As a Medicus I will do what I feel is necessary to maintain the health of my patient. Everyone is worthy of healing and humane treatment. Even Voldemort. I am not one of your assassins Harry, and I won't be treated as such."

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry apologized.

"You should be! Do you think I like one of my best friends calling me a whore?! You know that it's only rarely that a Medicus will have sexual relations with his or her patient. If they do, then it's a mutual decision! This isn't easy for me Harry. It's testing by beliefs and everything I am."

"I don't understand. I don't and I'm not going to pretend I do. You're my friend and... Will you be careful, Hermione?"

"He won't be able to hurt me, Harry. Once the contract is bound, it will be impossible. Besides, as a Medicus I'm not to be touched. You worry too much," Hermione replied gently.

"There's more than one way to be hurt," Harry replied.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped.

"Do you really think he'll just sit back and let you do whatever it is you do? He'll try to manipulate you!"

"Harry, you worry too much."

She was tired of his complaints. Her decision was made and she would not be bullied out of it. Hermione wondered if Harry even realized he was doing the very thing that he suggested Voldemort would do. Friend though he was, Hermione felt a stab of bitter pain at the thought of Harry's manipulations. They had changed so much after going their own ways. He thought he had her best interests at heart, but it grated on her that he thought she couldn't make her own choices.

"You don't understand! Your life will be ruined if you take this contract."

"Why? Because the wizarding world will call me Voldemort's whore? If it's hit the papers, then it's too late for that," Hermione replied scathingly.

For a few moments Harry was silent. Finally he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair in a gesture of defeat. Hermione felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. His sheepish look begged her forgiveness. How could she hold a grudge? It didn't take tea leaves to divine his worry. He was frantic with it. Maybe she would say and do the same things if she was in his position. Most of all, Hermione didn't want their goodbye to be stained with argument.

"Damn it!" Harry burst out. "I feel like I'm losing you. I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's okay, Harry. I- I know you're just worried. Believe me, I'll be fine and you're not losing me."

A knock on the door interrupted what Harry might have said in return. The fresh face of a new acolyte peeked into the room. Hermione felt a shiver of excitement and anxiety. She knew what the girl's presence meant. Before the girl spoke she quickly reduced her trunks and tucked them away in her robes.

"Your escort is here, Medicus," the acolyte said hesitating over the word 'escort'.

"Thank you, I will meet them out front," Hermione replied.

The girl left and Hermione turned to Harry. Wordlessly he engulfed her into a hug. She savored the embrace and tucked it away into her memory. Hermione didn't know when she would next see Harry. More than likely she would have to settle for long owls for some time to come. That thought lodged a lump in her throat but she didn't allow her emotions to show. When they parted, Hermione straightened herself and drew up the hood of her cloak. Silently, she drew on her center of calm and left her room. Harry forlornly watched her leave.

Three hooded and masked Death Eaters waited at the gate. Frightened acolytes peered at them in fear induced fascination. The Medicus ignored their presence, except for Melinda Baneworthy. She stood next to them waiting for Hermione. At an even pace, Hermione moved to take her place beside Melinda. The Death Eaters regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance.

"The Medicus Order has judged your Master's request worthy. We surrender this Medicus into his care," Melinda spoke formally.

Disdaining to reply, the Death Eater's nodded in agreement, bowed and then took hold of Hermione's arms. When their hands made contact, Hermione stiffened instinctively. Suddenly Hermione felt as if she was plunged into deeper waters that she knew how to navigate. It took a great effort of will for her to relax. Mentally, she reminded herself that apparating with a third party was difficult enough without her struggling. Meeting Melinda's eyes, Hermione took solace in the encouragement and love she saw in them. The familiar dislocation of apparating engulfed her and she was standing in a dark room.

"Lord Voldemort awaits. Follow," The taller Death Eater spoke.

Walking between the two Death Eaters, Hermione could see little of her surroundings. The scent of mold and accompanying darkness was heavy in the air. Hermione forced herself to relax. She would not bring shame on her training. A pair of double doors swung open at the end of the corridor. The dark robed forms of dozens of Death Eaters stood on both sides of the large room. In an ornate throne, sat Voldemort himself.

She had listened to Harry's descriptions of what had come out of the cauldron at the end of their fifth year. Those descriptions had sent chills running through her. Hermione had even had a few nightmares over Harry's story. What she saw was not like anything she had imagined. Instead of the ruin of a human she had expected, Voldemort exuded reptilian elegance tinged with menace. Red eyes burned from a face that was striking in its inhuman appearance but certainly not horrific. The skeletal body that Harry described was also not in evidence. Although he was thin, Voldemort's wiry strength was clear. In his long fingered hands, he twirled his wand lazily. So absorbed in studying the Dark Lord, Hermione almost bumped into the Death Eater as he halted.

"My Lord-"

"Nothing from you, Avery. The Medicus can speak for herself," Voldemort replied and Avery bowed. "So, girl, who are you?"

Gracefully, Hermione knelt and bowed her head in the traditional Medicus greeting. All of her training in protocol and its history finally made sense. There was security in actions and words she had practiced over and over until they had become automatic. She was overwhelmingly glad for it. Her nervousness had vanished but she was left with a strange feeling of detachment. She withdrew the contract from her robes and held it out in offering.

"Lord Voldemort, your request for a permanent contract has been granted by the Head Healer Melinda Baneworthy. By taking the contract, you shall accept the conditions therein. The bonding of Medicus and patient will complete the contract. I, Hermione Granger, shall be bound to you until death," Hermione said in a clear tone.

Whispers swept through the Death Eater ranks. Hermione could not hear them clearly although she could make out the term 'mudblood'. She could not remember the last time she had been called that. With hatred and disgust heavy in the room, Hermione wondered why Melinda had chosen her. Offering Voldemort a muggle born Medicus was not without humor, but Hermione was beginning to wonder if that humor would be deadly. A high pitched chuckle rang out and the Death Eater's murmurs silenced. Hermione didn't dare look up to the source of that chuckle.

"So, Melinda's fangs haven't been dulled over the years. Her choice is both amusing and prudent. I gather you do not understand the implications, girl?" Voldemort asked sharply.

"No, Lord Voldemort," Hermione replied softly realizing there was far more at play than she realized.

"Such a brave little thing, coming to the serpent's lair. Well, let this old serpent enlighten you. I put dear Melinda in quite the bind. She couldn't refuse my request but to grant it... that would make the Ministry quite upset. Of course, the Order can't take sides, so she sent me you. If I refuse, the Order is none the worse for wear. If I accept, she thumbs her nose at me and remains in the Ministry's good graces for daring to send me a mudblood."

"Kill her, Lord!" came a call.

"Speaking out of turn Lucius?" Voldemort pointedly asked. "If you knew anything about the Medicus, then you would know that all allegiances are severed once joining the Order. You would also know that is why the Order is made up of mostly muggleborn wizards and witches."

"But my Lord-," Lucius cried.

"_Crucio!_" Voldemort snarled and Lucius Malfoy crumpled in agony. "Come now, girl, tell me exactly what must be done to complete the contract."

"Y-your touch will magically show you accept the terms of the contract. My touch has shown my acceptance. The agreement is not final or binding until the bond is forged," Hermione replied as evenly as possible.

"Very well," Voldemort said. "We shall seal the contract now."

With that, the contract was taken from her grasp. As he did so, Hermione felt something snap into place. Uneasily she returned to her feet. Dark red eyes watched her with amusement. Hermione guessed he could read her all too easily. She rather felt like a once celled organism being peered at through a Muggle microscope. Hands trembling a little, she reached out. Spindly fingers met hers halfway. Voldemort clearly knew more about what was to happen than he had let on. Forcing herself to push such concerns aside, Hermione took a deep breath. Her senses sharpened as she began the bonding process. Where their hands meshed, she felt a tingling. The abilities she had honed in her training rose at her command.

She could feel Voldemort's presence in front of her. Her own energy flared in response. The Medicus had perfected the use of life-force to heal. A trained Medicus could manipulate their own energy as well as that of their patient. The pinnacle of the Medicus Order was its use of the life-force to create a bond between patient and Medicus. The skill of the Medicus to use and control life-force was never put to the test as it was during bonding. 

With the skill of long practice, Hermione let her senses and energy meld with Voldemort's. Easily she could read the signs of fatigue and pain but those sensations were remote. Instead, she pressed deeper, until the sound of two heartbeats reverberated in her ears. Never before had she ventured so deep. Temporary contracts required only the most superficial of life-force bondings. These could be easily broken when the contract was done. It required the utmost control but little effort to create a minor bond. This was far different. The more their life-force merged, the harder it was to continue. Hermione felt her energy begin to flag. With a wrench, she completed the last steps and locked the bond in place. Her strength melted away and her eyes fluttered open. Shakily, she let go of the hands that were still clasped in hers.

Immediately, Hermione became aware of the glamour spells surrounding Voldemort. His every ache, pain and discomfort was open to her perusal. Even some of his emotional state was perceivable. Hermione did sense that somehow he had mostly screened this from her perception. That only confirmed her idea that Voldemort knew more than most about the Medicus and a life bond. The overload of sensory information made her feel lightheaded. She had read about the effects of a permanent contract on a Medicus but she'd never appreciated them before. That mixed with the effort she had expended rendered her somewhat limp.

"You are dismissed," Voldemort ordered his assembled followers and then looked down to Wormtail. "Take Medicus Granger to her quarters. See that she has everything she requires."

The supporting arm that was offered was ignored. Hermione just couldn't find it in herself to accept the aid of the traitorous rat. She might be a Medicus but that did not mean she had to be a saint. The maze of hallways, rooms and doorways were a blur. When the final door was flung open, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The rooms were spacious and expensively decorated. The large book shelves, the desk and the comfortable chairs seemed like heaven to her. Through one open door, she could see a potions lab. Another led to the bedroom. To her relief, the colors were mostly neutral. Not a single sign of Slytherin green. Hermione half wondered who had been decorating for the Dark Lord.

"Are the rooms acceptable?" Peter Pettigrew asked.

"They're fine. Does Lord Voldemort require my services immediately?"

"No, no, get settled. I'll bring you for dinner in a couple hours."

"Thank you," Hermione replied stiffly.

When Pettigrew was gone, she slumped down on a chair that was close to the fire. She was so tired and would have liked to sleep for several hours but she couldn't. She had to unpack and gather her strength for dinner. A feeling of dread pervaded her. Medicus training hadn't told her how to eat dinner with Death Eaters. It was made worse by the fact she was still dealing with the bond. Even now, she could feel Voldemort. It wasn't particularly unpleasant, but it was very strange.

Pulling out her luggage, Hermione began the process of setting up the lab. That was her top priority. Her books, clothes and other personal items could wait. If Voldemort wanted her to begin her duties as his Medicus, then she needed her lab set up. This she did not wish to do by magic. Using magic could affect some of the more delicate ingredients or items she used. The pre-made potions, salves and other item were easily stored in the cabinets. Her cauldrons and other equipment were a little more difficult as she had to set those up on the benches. Her herbs and potion ingredients were quickly put into place. Hermione was relieved when the lab was put to order. Seeing the items of her trade ordered and ready gave her a sense of comfort. Checking the time on her pocket watch, she hoped she'd have a few minutes to unpack her personal items before Wormtail returned.

Magic was happily used to stow away her books and robes. The large closet seemed rather bare once her modest collection of clothing was stored away. Hermione shook her head. Being a Medicus limited her choice of clothing anyway. While on duty, she wore her Medicus robes and what little spare time she had did not require an expansive wardrobe. Hermione pondered if she should change for dinner. For the moment she would keep to her formal robes, until she felt a little more confidant. It wouldn't hurt to remind the Death Eaters of her status either. Harry's warnings seemed to echo in her ears for a moment before she banished them.

Taking her small bag of toiletries, Hermione entered the bathroom. The polished marble and extravagant fixtures that greeted her made her giggle. The wizarding world did love their bathing facilities. Her reflection smiled back at her as Hermione looked in the mirror. The slight paleness of her cheeks was the only suggestion she wasn't as composed as she could be. Her Medicus robes seemed particularly blue against her pale complexion. That blue reminded her of something she had yet to do. Searching through her bag, Hermione dug out the cylinder Melinda had given her before she had left.

Sliver and strangely heavy, the long tube lay silent on her hand. Medicus bound by a full contract were very rare. Those that were bound, wore the symbol of their binding for all to see. Taking a deep breath, Hermione raised the cylinder. She touched it carefully to her forehead in four places. Silver dots appeared where she had touched the tube to her skin. They hovered just above her eyebrows, at each end. When she had pressed the cylinder to her skin, there had been a brief sting pain before the skin was healed. It was the wizarding version of a tattoo. Seeing the marks of a bonded Medicus on her face made Hermione swallow heavily. It seemed suddenly so real. Before she could explore the strange feelings that welled up, a loud knock sounded. Hermione hurried into her living room and saw Peter Pettigrew standing in her doorway. It was time to start her new life.


End file.
